


Tell Me You're Safe

by Eileniessa



Series: Prompts [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Tumblr Prompt, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 22:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14724824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eileniessa/pseuds/Eileniessa
Summary: After a while, Geralt got up and switched off the light, the sound was getting on his nerves, and right now, that was something he couldn't handle. He glanced down at the lopsided bedside table and sighed, his phone was still silent. Lifeless.





	Tell Me You're Safe

**Spoilers:**

Minor: Witcher III

* * *

**Disclaimer**

This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the books by Andrzej Sapkowski and the game series by CD Projekt Red. I do not claim ownership to any of these characters and have written this fan fiction for entertainment, not financial gain.

* * *

**Prompt:**

Send me a ship and one of these and I'll write a mini fic; (4) things you said over the phone – DaisyofGalaxy11

* * *

**Ralph**   **Waldo Emerson**

"Sorrow looks back, Worry looks around, Faith looks up"

* * *

The bulb hanging from the ceiling sways gently, a light breeze flowing through the window, stuck halfway closed and with only one damp, mustard yellow curtain to cover it. It moved like a spotlight across the dimly lit room, flickering every now and then, leaving him alone in the darkness. It resembled a scene from one of those cheap horror films Lambert loved so much, he'd always had shit taste. After a while, Geralt got up and switched off the light, the sound was getting on his nerves, and right now, that was something he couldn't handle. He glanced down at the lopsided bedside table and sighed, his phone was still silent. Lifeless.

He sat back down on the bed which creaked piercingly and sagged like a balloon under his weight, the bottom of the mattress practically touching the rotten floorboards of his motel room. The Witcher could feel the springs against his back as he rested his head against the pillows; they were thin and rough, covers worn with age and their colour lost to time. It was going to be an uncomfortable night, though admittedly not his worst. At least he had a roof over his head, even if it was leaking in places. He hoped that Ciri was faring better, she likely was. Geralt had a strong inclination that the owner, a portly old woman named Sam, had taken pity on the girl when she saw her companion – him, to be precise. It was nice to be reminded of what most people thought about Witchers, but he was too old and weary to let it bother him now.

Through his window, he looked out into the cloudless sky. The moon was shining brightly, casting its ghostly white light onto everything within reach. Geralt gazed as the stars, tiny pieces of crystal warding off the darkness of the night, he tried to recall the names of as many constellations as he could and wondered how different the stars looked in Zerrikania. Though he tried to keep his mind preoccupied, the Witcher knew he was in no danger of falling asleep. Not yet anyway. He was still waiting for her to call.

He'd not wanted her to go, especially not alone, but knew there was no possibility of dissuading her. Geralt wished he could help her, but the journey to the Sabbath had taken him and Ciri far away and there were still several more long, tiring days to go before they could reach her. The battle of Kaer Morhen might have been won, but this ordeal was far from over; there was no time to waste. It wasn't that he doubted her ability, the thought was inconceivable, but he would have felt better knowing there was someone watching her back. Geralt knew she would do anything for Ciri, for him, and that fact scared him. While he'd never dare to voice his opinion, he knew that she needed someone to look after her to. If something went wrong…He closed his eyes. It wasn't worth thinking about.

The Witcher spent several minutes browsing through his phone, looking at the cracked and chipped screen, but he soon got bored. He'd never understand how people became so engrossed in them, perhaps it was to distract them from their own demons. Whatever it was, it evaded him and he threw the cold, metallic object down on the bed. It bounced slightly as Geralt got up, the mattress springing up, resuming its normal, unassuming shape. The floor creaked under his feet as he went into the small bathroom - if you could even call it that. The light flickered on as he pulled the cord, illuminating the broom-closet like room which contained a toilet with no lid, a rusty sink and a tiny little shower head in the curtain which was dripping onto the mouldy floor.

The tap squeaked as he battled with it, rust flicking off like dry skin as he turned it forcibly. He waited a couple of seconds as the water went from black to brown and eventually became clear. Cupping his hands under the tap, he splashed his face with what he hoped was water and made a note to exclusively drink bottled water at breakfast tomorrow. He let it drip off his face, into the sink and floor, the coldness seeping into his skin. Without drying his face, Geralt switched off the light and went back into his sparse bedroom. He stood in front of the broken window and inhaled the fresh air. It chilled him to the bone but he was willing to sacrifice his comfort for a lungful of air which didn't make his stomach churn.

Roach, his trusty motorbike, was parked up under a tree beside Ciri's black monster, Kelpie. He hoped they had enough fuel to last them still Novigrad, he rather not risk delaying their arrival by even a couple of minutes – just in case, or so he told himself. He wondered whether or not he should text Dandelion and ask if she'd arrived but decided against it. There was always the possibility that the Chameleon had been compromised and she'd had to reside elsewhere. It wasn't worth the risk, she needed to slip in completely under the radar. He tried to reassure himself, arguing that perhaps no word from the city was a good thing. If she'd been caught sneaking in then surely he'd know about it by now, nothing got past social media, which in turn meant that nothing got past Dandelion. If his friend had heard bad news he would have called, or at least Geralt tried to convince himself that he would. Dandelion had never been particularly fond of her, or of their relationship. The Witcher shook his head, now he was just being stupid. What absurd reason would he think up next?

There was a flash of light behind him. His phone had begun to sing, vibrating against the stained duvet. He reached over and grabbed the phone at once, practically lunging at it in his haste. Geralt answered it before he'd even had a chance to check the caller.

"Hello," he said at once, the words sounding odd as he spoke to the small, empty room.

There was a soft, faint laugh on the other end and he felt his heart skip. "My my, someones eager, it usually feels like I have to wait for hours before you pick up." Any other time he would have felt embarrassed by this call out, an eager little schoolboy fawning over his crush. But there wasn't any room for such nonsense right now.

"I was waiting for you to call," Geralt replied. He knew how pathetic it sounded even before he'd said it, and sure enough, the caller laughed quietly down the phone. How had this gone from a cheap horror film to a shitty two crown romance? "Did you manage to get into Novigrad alright?"

"Well, if I'd been caught by Witch Hunters I wouldn't be calling you would I, Geralt," she said facetiously.

Geralt sighed deeply. "Yen…" he didn't have to see her to know that Yennefer was rolling her eyes at his reprimand, he only hoped that she'd pity him. Usually, the Witcher wasn't too bothered by her laughing at his expense, but not under these circumstances. First, he needed to know if she was okay.

"I…" she hesitated and Geralt held his breath. "I'm fine Geralt, I assure you. It took longer than I thought to get to the Chameleon, there were more patrols than I was expecting, but I'm here now." The Witcher's chest seemed to loosen slightly, perhaps he'd get some sleep after all. There were a lot of fears and dangers lurking in his shadow, trailing along behind him during the day and consuming him at night. For tonight, at least, Yennefer's imminent safety wasn't one of them. That was better than nothing.

The thought of Yennefer in the Witch Hunter's hands had haunted his dreams since the moment she had announced her intentions. The screams which had interrupted his talk with Menge; the charred and mutilated corpses lining the streets like trophies; the gaunt faces of the mages in the sewers, they were all things he would not soon forget. The hardest part was over, Yennefer was within the walls of Novigrad and out of the hands of the hunters, but she'd still have to watch her step to keep it that way. While the burden on his shoulders had eased upon hearing her voice, he was still anxious to reach her.

"Good," he answered awkwardly, realising the silence that had fallen between them, penetrated only by Yennefer's steady breathing. It was a melody to his ears. "Ciri and I are a couple of days ride away, so we'll see you soon."

"Take your time, Geralt. I don't want you to tire out our daughter simply because you worry too much. I can manage, Triss spent months in the city undetected. Honestly, you give the Witch Hunters far more credit than they deserve," the Sorceress replied tersely. Instinctively, Geralt wanted to disagree, but he'd learnt when to recognise a direct order from Yennefer. Reaching Novigrad a day early wasn't worth risking her wrath, besides, what harm could one more day cause? He tried not to think about it. "It's late, Geralt," said Yennefer, interrupting his thoughts, "I'll see you soon. Take care, dearest."

He smiled at nobody. Why did having someone to say goodbye to feel so good? Not that he'd ever admit it. "I love you, Yen. Goodnight."

* * *

Her phone glowed warmly as she ended the call, placing the device carefully on the small bedside table. She slid further down the pillows and threw her good arm over her eyes, blocking out the light from the small lamp she'd pulled towards the edge of the bed. For all the money Dandelion had invested in this place, he could have at least bought some decent lighting, in the late hours of the night her room was horribly dark. The coincidence made her angry, it was as though the Bard was deliberately making his establish unwelcoming towards her, though she knew it was foolish to believe that the lack of light was directedly related to her. It was, however, extremely annoying.

She tried to focus on her blind anger, willing it to overwhelm her, but its tiny flame was overcast with the lingering worry that had attached itself to her. Yennefer hoped she'd have time to conceal it before they arrived. Though its unlikely they would see it anyway, she was not one to take chances, especially not when it came to them. Over and over in her head, she kept telling herself that under any other circumstances she would have been more honest, though she firmly denied that she had lied. In truth, the Sorceress really was fine, she was alive after all and it was far from life-threatening.

Yennefer dragged herself out of bed and walked soundlessly to the bathroom, the soft, thick carpet absorbing her footsteps. The light automatically turned on as she opened the door and stepped inside. Even with the white tiles lining every wall, the space was poorly lit, it seemed that every corner of the Chameleon came with a shady atmosphere, whether you liked it or not. Yennefer washed her hands thoroughly in the sink, the warm water scolding her cold hands, but she didn't care. When she'd dried her hands, the Sorceress cautiously pulled off her black, silk dressing gown. Despite her care, the movement caused Yennefer to wince and she bit her bottom lip as she continued to undress. She looked into the mirror.

The bandage was clearly visible under her nightdress, the material snaking across her left shoulder and over her chest. Luckily, it looked as though the bleeding had stopped, for the most part, so she left the injury untouched. Reaching into her toiletry bag, she pulled out a small white container, took out two pills and swallowed them with a glass of water. Yennefer would have to go without the painkillers once they'd run out, she couldn't risk wandering around the busy marketplace just for the sake of a little bit of relief. The pain wouldn't kill her, and she had more important things to attend to. She glanced over at the small canvas bag in the bath. Yennefer would need to dispose of her bloody clothes first thing in the morning, along with the arrowhead.

She cursed her rotten luck. The Witch Hunter who'd shot her looked barely more than twenty summers old, his armour hanging off his lanky frame. Yennefer had waited in the shadows for the patrol to pass only to emerge and lock eyes with him, lagging behind the others. He must have been as surprised as she was, the precious few seconds it took for him to fumble with his bow had probably saved her life. She took her chance, darting across the street. It was risky, but the Sorceress knew that by turning back she would practically be delivering herself to these monsters. The only way to go was forward.

By some miracle, she'd managed not to scream as the arrow pierced her shoulder just before she'd reached cover or when she snapped off the shaft to squeeze between two houses. Yennefer's lip bled as she held her breath and tried not to make a sound. She hid for what felt like hours before the sound of the Witch Hunters had died away and she pressed on to the Chameleon. Knocking on the back door, she'd covered her bloody wound with her cloak, holding it tight to her chest as she barged past Dandelion and hastily clambered up the stairs. But there was no time to rest, there was someone expecting her.

Yennefer used most of her remaining strength to briefly numb the pain racing through her shoulder. She cleaned the puncture wound and pulled the offending piece of metal out of her delicate flesh. When the bleeding was under control and her shoulder had been bandaged she'd finally sat down on the bed. Collapsed, even. Before picking up the phone she ensured that her breathing was normal. They didn't need to know, what good would it do, there was no need to cause any more guilt or suffering. There was too much going on for them to worry about her, she refused to be that burden. Yennefer took a deep breath and unlocked her phone.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, thank you so much for reading this little fic. Massive thank you to DaisyofGalaxy11 for this prompt, great opportunity for me to write a modern AU and you know how much I've been dying to do one! What did you guys think? Please let me know if you liked it and if you'd be interested in more AUs at some point. I love hearing from people.
> 
> I'll keep this short, but as far as Realms goes it should be back up again within a month. Check my bio for information, if you're wondering about my absents, and until the story starts again enjoy this little stories. I'm using these prompts as an opportunity to warm up for the main show! Feel free to send me some via Twitter or Tumblr!
> 
> See you soon! Xx


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